


Berk's Legacy

by oh_you_pretty_things



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, F/M, Post-HTTYD2, Smut, dead!Hiccup AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2018-05-19 20:37:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5980306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oh_you_pretty_things/pseuds/oh_you_pretty_things
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the eve of their planned attack on tyrant, Drago Bludvist, Astrid faces an undeniable truth about life and death, and Eret son of Eret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Berk's Legacy

          


It had been twelve hundred and forty-two days since Astrid had sent her flaming arrow into the ship carrying the chief and his heir to Valhalla. Twelve hundred and forty-two days without Hiccup. She pulled out the notebook that he'd treasured so dearly and carefully unfolded the pages. There was no Night Fury available to re-lick the pages that had come loose, just as there was no rider to expand its boundaries. This book was all she had left of him. And all she had left of Berk.

Astrid ran her finger along the charcoal-rendered shoreline of the island on which they currently waited. Drago was here. She and Eret had found his encampment two nights earlier and had spent the better part of the last two days formulating a plan. Who was she kidding? She'd spent the last three and a half years formulating a plan.

At first the plan was simple. Find Drago and gut him. As time went on, her plans became more elaborate – to make him watch her take out his Alpha and take back Berk's dragons; to use his own dragon to slowly kill him; to make sure he looked her in the eye when he died and knew that Berk would never be forgotten. Hiccup would never be forgotten. But when she saw his hulking figure amongst his enslaved dragon army, Astrid's plan had simplified again as her fingers curled around the hilt of the knife Hiccup had given her so many years ago.

She would kill him. She would kill Drago Bludvist with her bare hands, even if it was the last thing she did in Midgard. She'd go out with an army of Valkyries and meet Hiccup again in Valhalla.

"Astrid?"

Sucking in a deep breath, Astrid hastily folded up her map and tucked the book in the waistband of her skirt as she weaved through the trees, back to the dying fire that Eret had made earlier in the night.

"I'm here," she said quietly.

Eret turned, the ghost of a smile on his lips. Astrid knew he worried for her. He insisted that they develop a plan together, that they move together, camp together, and stay together. She didn't have the heart to tell him that when it came down to it, she'd go out alone. He'd been too good a friend these last few years for her to sacrifice him along with all the others she'd lost. And revenge was hers to have. Drago had killed her chief and her tribe. Drago had killed Hiccup.

"Hey," he said, closing the distance between them, "The camps seem quietest in the early hours in the morning. Most of the guards drop off before dawn. It doesn't seem like Drago expects anyone to be bold enough to attack him, especially not from the island-side."

Astrid nodded. It made sense. There was nothing on this island save rocks, trees, and Drago's army. And Astrid and Eret.

"I'll strike in the morning."

"Astrid."

Astrid levelled her shoulders and looked at him steadily. "Don't go soft on me now, Eret," she said, smirking.

Eret didn't smile back. He sighed, the warmth of his brown eyes almost scalding. Astrid wished he hadn't come to _care_ about her. It was easier in the beginning, when he was the outsider of the small group of Hooligans left, when his assistance was something she'd paid for and wasn't freely given. He was never supposed to stick with her. He didn't owe her anything. He didn't owe any of them anything.

"Stick to the plan, Astrid. We go in together. You aren't the only one with a score to settle."

Astrid rolled her eyes and looked away. She looked up as Eret's heavy footsteps came closer. He towered over her and she glared up at him.

"You aren't the only one with a score to settle," he repeated, his hand around her arm, the heat of his skin searing in the chill of the night.

Astrid wrenched her arm away and stomped back to the fire. "Yeah, I got it," she muttered.

He'd told her once, a long time ago, when he was still new and her pain was still so very raw; the product of too much ale in a foreign tavern and too much attention paid to Astrid's emptiness. She wasn't the only one who'd lost her tribe to Drago. Astrid looked back at Eret, the broad width of his back illuminated by the fire. She wasn't the only one who'd lost her love to Drago either.

He wouldn't talk about her, but he'd wept that night, hugging a bottle and humming a marriage song. Astrid should have felt some kinship with Eret, she should have wanted to share the burden of revenge in cold blood, but instead his story had served to fuel her determination. She would kill Drago and she'd do it alone. She'd kill him for Hiccup. For the dragons. For Berk. And starting on that night, for Eret, too.

Astrid felt her resolve soften just barely as she watched him. The last thing she'd wanted after all the tragedy that had befallen her was a _friend_ , but she had one just the same.

"I'm going to get some rest," she said, settling down on the ground, her eyes still locked on him.

Eret turned slightly, the flames of the fire reflecting off his eyes. He nodded once and Astrid rolled away, her back to him. They were companions in pain; comrades in agony. They didn't take comfort in one another.

#

Astrid awoke with a start, relieved to find the sky still dark. She had never intended to fall asleep in earnest. She'd only meant to rest long enough that Eret thought she was asleep. With careful, even movements, Astrid rolled onto her back, her eyes mere slits. Across the fire, she spotted Eret's bulk alongside a log. He was asleep. Maybe this had worked out better than she had anticipated.

She had to be quick. Eret was a light sleeper and even lighter on his feet. Astrid rolled to her feet with an agility that had only improved with her years of practiced stealth. Without the dragons, she had to improve her hand-to-hand combat and lighten her footsteps. She'd had to relearn to be a warrior. And she had with all the adeptness that had always resided within her. Grabbing her axe and spinning it in her palm, she grinned at the glint of the blade. She was picky about which blacksmiths she allowed to sharpen it and refused their offers to make her a new one. Hiccup had made this axe just as he'd made the blade in her belt. It was fitting for Drago to die at its edge.

Astrid slipped away from the fire, rapidly fleeing for the cover of the darkness of the forest. By morning, Drago would be dead. Or she would be. Or they both would die. In any scenario, Eret would live.

"Going somewhere?"

Astrid jumped at the familiar sound of Eret's carefully constructed arrogance. She turned and scowled in the direction of his voice, her eyes not quite adjusted to the night sky.

"You should be sleeping," she hissed.

"So should you be, but here you are."

He stepped out from between two trees and gave her a smug grin. Astrid's hand tightened on her axe. They stared at each other in silence.

"Just let me have this, Eret," she said. She'd intended for it to come out strong and unyielding, but it had escaped as little more than a begging whimper.

Eret's face dropped. "Astrid."

"I've waited so long."

"I've waited longer," he said, closing the distance between them with even steps.

Astrid's axe arm faltered as she looked at him. She felt like a child denied her fun. Eret wasn't dressed for battle. Of course he wasn't. He'd left his heavy furs by the fire to fool her into thinking he was there. But here he was.

"You knew," she accused.

Eret laughed, a sharp bemused bark. "You're transparent, Astrid. You wear your emotions like a cloak, plain as day."

Astrid shook her head. She pushed a hand out against his chest, pushing him out of her way. She didn't have time to play games with Eret. She had a window of opportunity and she would have to seize it while she could. Eret was quick to step back in her path, his hands out in front of him, a pantomime of Hiccup training a dragon.

"Get out of my way," Astrid growled.

"No."

"Eret."

"No," he repeated.

It happened fast, faster than she'd been expecting. She'd raised her axe and he'd hit her arm in three places, numbing it and shocking her hand open so that the weapon fell uselessly to the ground. Astrid turned outraged blue eyes onto her supposed friend and uttered a sound so guttural, she wasn't even sure it had come from her. She launched herself at him, attempting to kick out his legs, but Eret was faster, bigger, stronger. Astrid had always known this, but she'd thought she was able to hold her own against him. It had seemed that way when they sparred. He'd never been this quick. He'd been holding back on her; the thought enraged her.

"Eret," she spat through gritted teeth.

Astrid flung her entire body into him, dodging his well-timed hits while trying to catch him in a hold that would leave him unable to fight. They struggled in the darkness of the forest, their grunts an uneven soundtrack to an otherwise silent night. Eret sent a glancing blow at Astrid's head that had her seeing stars. While she stumbled, he closed his arm around her hips and threw her to the ground hard, her head bouncing off the ground. He pinned her there, even as she thrashed and fought against him.

"You're so bloody stubborn," he muttered, "And _selfish_."

Astrid sucked in a noisy breath and stilled. " _Selfish_?"

Eret huffed, his forearm pressed down on her collarbone. "Extremely."

"You're a filthy, munge-headed—"

"Ah, ah. Sticks and stones, love."

"Get off me."

"No. Not until you see reason. You're headed on a suicide mission, Astrid."

"I'm headed to Valhalla, to join my tribe," she grunted, putting all her effort in pushing off Eret's arm.

"Why?"

The word hung there between them, heavy and loaded. Astrid paused in her struggles, her eyes meeting his. Why? Because it was what she'd wanted for the past three and a half years. Because she _needed_ to avenge her tribe, to avenge _Hiccup_. Because it was all she had left.

"If you think Hiccup would be happy knowing you're spending your life Hel bent on revenging his death, you'd be wrong."

Astrid released a cry to wake the island and slammed all her weight into Eret, flipping him off of her in his surprise and reaching for her knife. They rolled on the ground, a writhing, grunting animal, until Astrid had Eret pinned to the ground, her knife at his throat.

" _Don't_ tell me what _Hiccup_ would want. Hiccup is _dead_."

Eret smiled, a sad, bitter thing that made Astrid frown and distracted her long enough for his quick fingers to pluck Hiccup's book from her waistband and toss it into the trees.

"Exactly," he said despite her anguished cry.

Astrid scurried to reach the notebook, but Eret's arm closed around her waist and yanked her back against his body, his breath coming in hot pants against the back of her neck.

"That book _isn't_ Hiccup, Astrid."

Astrid's struggling against him paused, her eyes locked on the darkness where the book had fallen, pages open and fluttering in the moonlight. She couldn't look away.

"I know that," she whispered.

"You're not dead, Astrid," Eret breathed against her ear, "And neither am I."

Time seemed to slow with his arm around her and his lips at her ear. Astrid twisted her neck to look at him over his shoulder, her eyes touching his and trailing down to his lips and the tattoos beneath them. He wasn't Hiccup. Hiccup was lost to sea. Hiccup was ashes. Eret was alive and breathing, his skin warm against hers, the strength in his arms real. Tangible.

Astrid reached across her body, her fingertips brushing his chin and the barely grown stubble there. It happened as fast as anything else had this night, the way she twisted in his arms, the way his head came down so their lips could meet. With fragility at first, but then with increasing need and violence. Astrid broke their kiss and looked up to find him looking back at her with soft brown eyes that lit with something she hadn't seen directed at her in a long, long time. Want.

She shoved him back and rolled on top of him, straddling his hips. The faint look of wonder he gave her reminded her of when they'd met – his open-eyed curiosity about the two dragon riders who'd purposefully sought out his ship. Eret grinned at her and she caught the edge of a dangerous look in his eye – a dragon trapper trying to make a catch. Astrid leaned in, her eyes on his mouth. He was alive and so was she.

Astrid kissed him savagely, his arm wrapped around her hips and holding her tight against him as he bucked into her involuntarily, the hard heat of him shocking a gasp from her lips. It had been so long and she was surprised to find that she _wanted_ this. She wanted his hot mouth against her throat, his fingers pulling out the ties of her hair roughly and tangling in the knots there. With a hand behind her head, his other arm still wrapped around her, Eret flipped them again, Astrid's back hitting the cold ground with a whump. She laughed when he didn't apologize, because she'd expected it. It's what Hiccup would have done.

Hiccup was dead.

She kissed Eret harder, biting at his bottom lip and swallowing his groan. Everything with Hiccup had been easy consideration and cautious gentleness. Astrid dug her fingernails into the bare skin of Eret's shoulders; she didn't have to be gentle with him. And he didn't have to be gentle with her. Astrid pulled at his tunic, tugging it over his head with far too much force and yanking him back in for another vicious kiss, a battering of lips and teeth and tongues. Eret reached under her skirt and yanked down her tights, his hand delving between her thighs, calloused, eager fingers stroking and prodding until she cried out for more.

Eret pulled back, away from her mouth, to look at her. Astrid liked how she couldn't pull him back with sheer force alone. She wasn't strong enough to do it. She liked the quirk of his eyebrow as he slid a finger inside her. Her head went back, glancing against the hard ground yet again as his hand worked against her. Astrid arched her back, her body alight with pleasure in a way she'd scarcely thought about let alone indulged in. She whimpered when Eret pulled his hand away to yank off her boots and pull of her tights entirely. It was enough time for her to recover, to sit up and shove him onto his back again, crawling forward on all fours and sliding her hand up the front of his pants with firm deliberation.

Astrid grinned when Eret's head went back with a satisfying thunk against the ground. Her hands went to work on the ties of his pants and he looked down his body at her, eyes dark with desire and expectant. Astrid liked the silence of this as much as she liked the _violence_ of it. She and Hiccup could never do this without a running commentary, a play-by-play of every move and every emotion. Astrid pushed Eret's pants over his hips, her hand closing around the length of him and pumping slowly. Eret's groans were satisfying in a way that all that easy conversation hadn't been. Everything was different with him; everything was different with her.

Astrid positioned herself, hovering with Eret in her hand, ready to sink down on him when Eret sat up and yanked her into another kiss. She was forced to let go of him to grip his shoulders and keep from falling over from the force of his kiss. Eret, still kissing her, his tongue entangled with hers, reached between them and positioned himself, lining up with Astrid and gripping her hips with his free hand to push her down onto him.

In one breathless moment, Astrid and Eret eased together as one. It felt like a long time coming. It felt like something that should have happened ages ago. The vague thought crossed Astrid's mind as Eret started to move within her, the heat of his skin against hers electric, his hands tugging off her shirt and unwinding her breast bindings so his mouth could find her skin, that they'd lost so much time over the years. Time they could have been doing this. And maybe if they had been, things could have been different. Astrid could see it – a different life, a life where Eret took her away from this trail of hate and made love to her in silence in their home by the sea. Somewhere distant. Somewhere where no one knew their names. She could have borne his children. They could have grown old together.

Eret shifted them again, Astrid beneath him, her hips crushing against his with each thrust, certain in their end goal. They both wanted this so much; Astrid's cries met with Eret's grunts. And it was right in a way nothing had been in over three years. It was right and it was exactly what Astrid needed on this night. Astrid's fingernails dug into Eret's arms to remind her that this wasn't Hiccup, that Hiccup was dead, that this wasn't her happy ending. And when she cried out from the ecstasy of it all, it wasn't Hiccup's name on her lips. It wasn't anyone's at all.

Astrid didn't know how long they laid there in the middle of the forest, in the dead of night, Eret's body curved around hers protectively, as though he could keep her from harm. As though she'd let him. They didn't speak; words had never been either of their strong suits. They understood each other in body. When Eret's breaths against her neck had evened out, Astrid had slid out from under his arm. She climbed to her feet and looked down on him, sleeping and so innocent-looking, like a child untouched by war or death. This was how she'd remember him, she decided.

Astrid dressed in absolute silence, braiding her hair with nimble fingers. First she gathered her axe from the floor of the forest and then Hiccup's book. She wound it closed and brought it to her lips. It had been her companion as much as Eret had been. It had brought her comfort when there was none to be had. Astrid looked back over her shoulder and caught sight of Eret, still asleep in the grass. She walked over with near-silent steps and knelt beside him.

Pushing an errant lock of hair away from his face, she whispered: "Thank you."

Astrid pressed her lips lightly to his temple and took one last look at Hiccup's book before tucking it under Eret's hand. She stood up and set off through the forest in the direction of Drago's encampment, the pink hue of daylight barely touching the horizon.

#

Eret was startled awake by the anguished cry of a Deadly Nadder far above him. He was alone and shivering on the ground. Eret felt something in his hand, leather bound and hard. His eyes slid shut. He didn't have to look at it to know what it was. He didn't have to call out to know she'd gone.

His eyes opened and he stared, mesmerized by the dragon-dotted sky above. Freed dragons, without the tether of an Alpha. Without the command of Drago Bludvist.

Tears welled, unbidden, and Eret did nothing to stop them. This was Berk's legacy and Astrid's revenge.


End file.
